


It's the start, it's the end

by Strigimorphaes



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, M/M, Multi, fem!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strigimorphaes/pseuds/Strigimorphaes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a long story. It starts with a group of fledgling thugs and mercenaries banding together to commit crime.<br/>Michael is afraid that it will all end after they try to go down in history with a spectacular heist that goes spectacularily wrong.</p><p>AH OT6 (with focus on Michael/Gavin and Ryan/Ray).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jack is a woman because his GTA character is and I like to think I'm writing about those rather than the men themselves, if that makes sense. I mostly wrote this to indulge my own headcanons ;)  
> This story is really just one part - I just divided it into chapters because otherwise it was far too long to have on one page. You're welcome.

_Fuck_ being sentimental. _Fuck_ standing around teary-eyed watching the sun set above the bay and the blood wash away in the waves hitting the beach, _fuck_ talking when things aren't going to change and the mangled corpses of too many cops sink out there. 

Geoff's heavy hand on his shoulder is all that anchors Michael, not the he wants to remember where he is. 

It's very, very cold.

"C'mon, let's get up the mountain. Stick to the plan." Not that Geoff sounds optimistic. Michael can hear him trying, though, for what little it matters.

"You saw them get run off the road!" Michael retorts, pulling away. "There were too many cops. Let's face it. Gavin and Jack are done for. Ray's probably skipping town as we speak. I don't even want to _consider_ Ryan-"

"We don't know anything."

"That's my fucking car out there," Michael just says. Watches the green decal dissapear in the water. Hates the thought of all the small things in it becoming lost forever - the infuriating etchings Gavin made with his pocket knife, the smell of gasoline and gunpowder that surrounds (surrounded?) Ryan, the map he kept in the glove case with all Jack's getaway routes marked down.

"We're going to the meeting point, Michael," Geoff states. "And that's it."

"Fine, Boss." The title hardly matters now, does it? But Michael can't blame him. He, too, wants to believe that everyone else is still free and not in some cell right now - or at the very least _alive_. He wants to believe all the way up the mountain that things can be as they were, that one failed heist isn't the end, can't be, won't be. But facts are facts and denying them is something Michael will not allow himself to begin doing. If he begins, he won't be able to stop and then he'll never get out of Los Santos alive.

They start walking because what else can they fucking do.

The sun starts to set.

-X-

The heist had started at five o'clock in the afternoon.

The beginning of everything else is far earlier when Geoff decides that he's going to become if not a happy man, then at least a very rich one. He straightens his back and counts up his old connections, making phone calls and shadowy meetings as he once again saunters down into the strange criminal underworld. He's an old face there, people whispering his name around the edges of circles and inside dark and hidden houses. He wants them to. 

The whispers are sure to get the word out and true enough - within days, Jack, the confident woman that she is, shows up happy to join Geoff in his venture. They've worked together before, but always seperated by several miles and links in the chain of command. Jack has a small shop that sells the same snowglobes and shot glasses as all the other souvinir-shops alongside some christmas ornaments and stale candy. While the buisiness isn't booming, it's good enough that it launders a bit of money. Good enough for a startup. They work well together, the two of them.

Geoff handles the project like he deals with most things; slowly, but decisively. Setting up safehouses, trading and intimidating. 

They start to earn money, start to think about the future. Geoff starts to hangs around bars more often, and that's how he meets Michael -

Michael who gets thrown out on the street on a regular basis. Michael who has bruised knuckles every single time Geoff sees him. Michael who, for some reason, seems to _want_ the punches to hit him before he decides he's had enough and knocks out the poor guy he provoked into a bar fight. His name is known in almost every bar he has visited, which is how Geoff learns it. Which is why he becomes interested.

Geoff follows him out onto the cold, rain-slick street one night. Michael is wet from landing in a puddle. He still seems angry, but as soon as he's outside the bar he looks a lot more sober. He stops stumbling and stands straight when he looks Geoff in the eye.

"What's the matter?" he asks, rolling his shoulders.

Geoff shakes his head. "You alright?" he says, not really expecting an answer.

Michael raises and eyebrow. "None of your business."

Geoff steps towards him, takes his hands out of his pockets to show that he's not concealing any weapons. "Why do you get in fights?" he asks, trying to find the right tone of voice. (He's always too concious of how he sounds - which is what happens when you're a grown man whose voice still cracks, whose words sometimes head into a breathy falsetto and make him feel everything but powerful. RIght now, he knows that he can sound like a leader).

"I guess people don't like me much," is Michael's answer. _His_ voice hides things too. Geoff can tell he's trying to sound tougher than he is. 

"C'mon," Geoff says, crossing his arms. Michael sees his tattoos, dosen't shy away. "Why is it, really?"

"It's none of your business," Michael repeats. There's a bit of blood running from a wound on his lip, and Geoff remembers the taste of the aftermath of a fight like that. The rush of adrenaline, the feel of bones breaking under your hands.

"I could make it my business."

"Yeah, no thanks."

"Listen." Geoff locks eyes with Michael. "Do you want to fight for me?" 

Michael tilts his head, brows furrowed. "You want to pay me for beating someone up or what? 'Cause I'm not some cheap thug, okay, I'm-"

"I want to pay you for working with me. Look beyond shitty bars and this whole fucking mess for a second, okay? Think bigger."

"Look, if you're some wierdo who thinks he can 'save' me or whatever, then-"

"All I want, Michael, is for you to use your anger to make us both rich. Drugs, banks, rackets..." He speaks slowly, allowing each word to fall into place in Michael's head.

"You're from a gang."

"I'm the boss of one." And Geoff won't pretend that he's not a bit proud of saying that.

"Been there, done that," Michael says, but his voice isn't as convincing as it has been before. He's teetering on the edge of a decision, and Geoff pushes him gently over. 

"I want you there, Michael. I'd pay you well. This will be different - I'm no common thug either." 

Michael looks away from Geoff, his jaw tensing, his hands balling into fists. Then he lets go. "Fuck it, I'm in. Can't be worse than this." He gestures to the gutter around them, giving Geoff an impression but mostly leaving _this_ up to intepretation, not that Geoff can't make an educated guess at how Michael's life usually is. "What's the next step?"

Geoff jots down the address, kind of unprepared of the situration to be honest. He hands it to Michael who takes it and sticks it in his pocket. There are droplets of water in his reddish curls.

-X-

Michael was on the street for a while. Then he was off the street. Then he was on drugs for a while. Then he was off them again. Then he was off his rocker and then he was down in the gutter and his clothes still aren't clean and his skin still hasn't healed when he shows up at Geoff's front door. Michael knows it's not a private place the way his own apartment is, that Geoff probably has several other safehouses and places around town. He still feels antsy when he knocks on the door.

The apartment is very empty.

Of course Michael is pleased to find that there is no strange initiation or cultish ritual to pass. No band of wild, angry men. Michael has seen youths beaten half to death to prove their loyalty, but Geoff just tells him to make himself comfortable. He figures Geoff dosen't feel like he needs rituals; he demands respect just by being there. When he puts his hand on Michael's shoulder, it feels like it leaves behind a mark not unlike the tattoos other angry men Michael's age end up sporting - and not unlike Geoff's own. And Jack accepts him with a simple nod.

 -X-

The first time they send him out to kill someone, he notices Jack looking a lot closer at him than usual. He can't tell whether it's concern or if he's being tested. It's a quick driveby shooting, and after it's done, Michael can just forget it and leave the corpse behind as he speeds away, evading the police with a rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins. The dead man is some drug dealer nobody will miss - except maybe for the other gang whose distribution he was handling. Michael grins as he makes a quick turn away from the main road and hears the sirens continue away from him.

He spends the days with the crew, small as it is, and the nights in his own apartment sleeping better than he has for months.

-X-

Geoff has a vision, he explains, leaning in over the grand map of the city that he has spread out on the table. He's wearing a suit. Michael thinks it would look kind of comical on anyone else, but Geoff pulls it off somehow.

Michael suprises everyone when he speaks up, mentioning that he's got friends in high places. Well, really only one. And he's only in high places because he's a sniper. And okay, they only met in a dark alley and texted each other a couple of times, but if they'd like he can try to contact some guy called Ray just in case they need someone who's good at killing people and/or speaks spanish.

-X-

Ray shows up on the apartment on a rainy day, dripping wet and looking quite miserable. He's carrying a duffel bag. Michael opens the door while Geoff stays back, leaning against the counter dressed in white and black so that only the tattoos on his hands are visible. It's a good look on him, making him out to be some kind of mafia boss but only showing just a hint of the raw edge that Michael knows is there even when he is being polite. Jack hangs back dressed in a too-colourful t-shirt with the vinewood sign plastered across the front.  

"Why didn't you take a cab?" Geoff inquires.

"Because I'm poor," Ray says. Then his snide voice trails off. He stops in the middle of taking his jacket off, then continues much more slowly. Like he's afraid of moving too quickly out of fear of provoking predators around him. He knows the edge is there too.

"How do you feel about this line of work?"

"Let him get inside, Geoff, can't you see he's-" Michael begins, but Ray cuts him off as he steps into the room.

"I'm the best in Los Santos," he declares. He wipes the rainwater off of his glasses. 

Geoff's question comes instantly. "Rifle?"

"A Remington 700, bolt-action. Modified the shit out of it though. Different barrel, military-grade scope, silencer. There's hardly any of the original gun left in it."

"And you want to work for us?"

"Michael says this is a good job."

Michael watches Geoff tap his foot. The older man is considering his options. Then he stretches his open hand out towards Ray, who certainly wasn't expecting a handshake. He still takes the hand, and Michael knows from experience that Geoff is serious now. 

"You're in, then," he says. "On trial 'till we see you shoot."

Ray nods silently. It looks to be a business arrangement for him. Like he's just gotten hired as a part-timer or something. He's just about to leave when Geoff speaks again.

"You don't look good."

"What?"

"Do you have a place to sleep?"

"Well... Not anywhere I'd like to go back to, that's for sure," Ray begins, shrugging. Michael has a feeling it's a bit worse than that, really. "Why do you ask?"

"I've got a cheap flat a short walk away," Geoff offers. "It's shitty, but hey, it can't be traced back to me - or anyone, for that matter. I figure you're the kind of guy who likes his privacy."

Michael wonders if the offer is because of pity or just because Ray is more useful when he's close and healthy. Ray seems to think the same, but he nods in agreement.

"Fine," he says. "What do I have to do for it?"

"Just keep doing what you're doing," Geoff says, shrugging. 

Ray probably also hears an unsaid  _and know that I know where you live._ He nods, adding his own quiet  _and do you think that frightens me?_

"You should stay until the rain's over," Jack suggests, her voice almost startling given how quiet she's been the whole time.

"Thanks," Ray says, still not letting go of the duffel bag. By now, Michael is realizing what's inside it. Ray looks at him as if asking him to take charge because Michael is the only one of them who knows the rules of this place. And there _are_ certain rules to Geoff's place even though none of them ever discuss them. (No peeking behind closed doors, don't drink his alcohol, don't stay the night. Tread lightly.).

Geoff relieves some of the tension in the air when he suggests that the newest members "watch some TV or something" while he and Jack go take care of a small thing.

As soon as the other two men are gone, Ray sits down on the couch. He sighs and rolls his shoulders.

This is wierd," he sighs, "They're so casual about it. Leaving us behind like damn children."

"Do you _want_ to go out there?"

"You know what I mean."

"Just... trust Geoff, alright?" Michael throws Ray a controller, figures his friend's itchy trigger fingers can be put to good use. "But I suppose it's not your strongest suit," he adds, nodding towards the bag, now placed on the floor between Ray's feet. 

"You need to be careful," Ray offers, "It's not my first time working for someone." Again his voice sounds detatched from what he's saying as he starts up the game. "Besides, this is almost just a sign of professionalism, isn't it? Being ready to work at a moment's notice. Not letting you weapon out of sight."

"You and all your experience," Michael says, his tone of voice making it clear that he's not convinced that Ray's previous jobs give his words anymore weight that Michael's

They play until the rain clears up and Ray declares that Michael can tell the others that they know where they can find their sniper and that Michael has his number.

Then he leaves like the last hour meant nothing at all.

-X-

It's a running theme with Ray.

Michael shows up at his apartment every so often. He chats him up when they're out on a job together, does his dammed best to get his aquaintance to become a friend, but Ray is closed around himself. 

He's a bit jittery and has awful black circles under his eyes, but he's competent all the same. The first time Geoff gives him a target, it's a clean kill. Bullet between the eyes eight hours after Ray gets the call. It's the same for the next one. And the next. And the next.

Sometimes he helps Michael, who now has time for a lot of odd jobs. Geoff sends him to move packages with unknown content, deal with people who don't pay up, scare off rivals. It's a lot easier to be intimidating when Ray's got his back.

-X-

Even when they upgrade and get a new, upscale apartment as their base of operations - one floor away from the penthouse downtown by a busy street - Ray dosen't move in. Geoff makes sure the place has guest bedrooms, four beds in total. When he's there, which is surprisingly often, he takes the master bedroom. Jack also stays there from time to time whenever she works late for the crew, a bedroom set aside just for her. Michael drops every pretense and moves in permanently and Geoff does not disapprove.

They don't see each other often despite the living arrangement. Their sleep patterns are too irregular for that - but every time they share a morning Michael feels like Geoff looks a little fonder. It's still a quite professional relationship; Michael suspects that Geoff takes great care to make sure Michael never sees him blackout drunk or too hungover. Still, just seeing him late at night when he takes off his suit jacket is enough. Michael studies the tattoos that wind all the way up Geoff's arms and considers that he might get something soon, too.

-X-

The first real breakthrough is when Gavin shows up, unexpected in every way.

Nobody has seen Geoff the whole night. That's not unusual. But when Jack and Michael eat breakfast together and Michael asks about the situration, he learns that Jack dosen't know either and becomes just a bit worried. Jack usually knows all but the most private things about Geoff's comings and goings. There are all sorts of back alleys and troublesome things lurking out there for someone like Geoff, who has been upsetting a lot of people. He has other enemies, too, people who don't live in the underworld the way Geoff does, but who know that he's crooked even if they don't know how. Michael finds himself fidgeting a little. Just a little.

Then Geoff shows up and Michael just laughs.

"Were you getting laid?" he manages to say, "Was that why you were out?" Geoff looks at him like he's too sober for that conversation, but Michael does not relent. "You've got bed head," he says. It's true - Geoff is even more messed up than usually with wild hair and dark circles under his eyes, wearing the same wrinkled shirt as last time they met. 

Then a person steps forward from behind Geoff. A guy with brown hair dressed in a tourist t-shirt that might as well have come from Jack's shop, and he's glancing around like the flat is both the most interesting and intimidating place in the world. He is standing _very_ close to Geoff, hand reaching forward to tug on the other man's shirt, all up in his personal space.

"...And that's the lucky guy?" Michael asks, crossing his arms.

Geoff shakes his head looking so very tired. "That's Gavin," he says. "Gavin, that's Michael."

"Hi," the stranger named Gavin says.

"And he's not a fucking one night stand, Michael. We ran into some trouble. I mean, I don't really know him, but I got him out of a bad spot and he was _fucking impossible to stop_ -"

"I just wanted to see what all of this was about," Gavin says. Michael can't decide if the brittish accent sounds stupid or not. He leans towards stupid. Gavin darts ahead a bit, begins to study the room top to bottom from Geoff's empty whiskey glass on the counter to the mess left over from when Michael tried to make fancy coffee earlier in the morning. Then there's his gun left on the coffee table because sometimes Michael just dosen't have time for proper safety precautions - Gavin does not, as expected, shy way from it. "It all seemed pretty interesting."

"So let me get this straight," Michael begins, "You saved this idiot from some muggers or something?"

"Yes."

"And then you straight up told him what you do for a living?"

Geoff rubs his neck. "I didn't. He forced himself on me - it - it was all very _wierd_ , okay? So he's in some trouble, owes the wrong people money and asks me to follow him home because I seem like - and I quote - 'a tough bloke' and I might've been a bit drunk or something." Geoff shakes his head at the thought. "Alcohol just makes me a bit..."

"I know."

"Anyway, I go with him and - _Gavin_ , please put that down, you don't want your fingerprints on that - and there is more trouble waiting for him at his shitty apartment. He pulls a gun on them, but he can't use the damn thing and I end up saving his ass. Now he's afraid to go home in case they try to threaten him again. Figured I could let him crash on the couch for a night."

"It's not a charity, Geoff. He's like a - a bipolar bird or something. You can't be serious."

"I'm right here," Gavin says. Michael pretends he dosen't notice.

"I'll think of something in the morning," Geoff concedes.

"This IS the morning."

"Maybe he'll be useful," Jack suggests. "I've got a good feeling about him."

Geoff raises his voice, speaks to Gavin. "It seems pretty clear to me that you're at least somewhat involved in this line of work. Got any skills we can use?"

"Um." Gavin stops in the middle of his study of their maps of Los Santos, his index finger hovering above the airport. "What exactly _is_ your line of work again?"

"We're criminals," Michael says. Short and simple.

But strangely, Gavin just pauses, humming idly as he thinks. "I kinda figured that out. I was talking about the specific - nah, nevermind. I'm good at cameras and little technical things and the like. I can shoot a gun..."

"He can't," Geoff says.

Gavin appears thoughtful again, bringing a hand to his chin. "I can also make things blow up," he finally suggests.

"That's better," Michael says.

"Innit?" Gavin smiles and okay, maybe there'll be upsides to having that wierd guy around for a night or two. ”For now I'm just going to sit here if you don't mind...”

Michael figures that Gavin probably hides something. Following Geoff was likely a unwise decision for him, and it was probably also an unwise decision that led to him being pursued in the first place. While Michael thinks, Gavin gets comfortable.

It does not take long before he falls asleep on the sofa.

He wakes up when Ray comes in for a briefing and hangs around when they all meet around the map of the city. He looks like he's listening when Geoff explains what has to be done and by who, if there's anything (or anyone) they need to take care of, where their rivals are and what the police knows. Then, suddenly, Gavin slams his fist onto the table just as Geoff is describing a job.

"I can do that," he says, brimming with confidence.

Geoff reluctantly agrees to letting him accompany him out in the field later that week because Gavin sure as hell isn't going alone. That means Gavin stays a few more nights. And once the Gavin and Geoff return from that job, Geoff seems to have taken a liking to the brit. Gavin expresses no desire to leave and Geoff allows him to stay. The other three all know better than to argue with Geoff's decisions, figuring that their leader has his reasons. They take turns babysitting Gavin, but slowly he starts going away on his own as well.

For some reason - maybe because Gavin actively tries to make it so - he and Michael end up working together very often. Michael takes it upon himself to show Gavin around town and slowly, they grow on each other.

-X-

"Didn't you have family at one point?" Michael asks. He's stitting opposite Gavin, watching him pile sunny side up eggs onto his plate. Michael is much more of a morning person than Gavin, and the breakfast is an unspoken agreement between them: Michael cooks so Gavin gets to work on time. "I mean, obligations or anything?"

"I'm good," Gavin says.

"You're wierd, that's what you are."

"It's a good wierd though, isn't it?" Gavin looks up from his plate, making something Michael is tempted to describe as puppy eyes.

"Sure," he sighs, taking a sip of his coffee. "Geoff left us a note by the way. We're going together."

Gavin perks up a bit at the word _together_. "What're we doing?"

"We're keeping a shop under observation. High end place."

"That's new," Gavin says. Then, with an expression like he just figured out the solution to some obtuse puzzle, he adds, "He's planning something."

"Just a little robbery."

"I bet we-" Gavin begins, but he cuts himself off when he yawns mid-sentence.

"Tired?"

"I just didn't sleep well, that's all," he explains. "Gimme some of that coffee."

Michael pours it for him without really knowing why. It seems like the natural thing to do. And they don't say much while they finish breakfast - Michael watches Gavin, the sunlight coming through the open blinders casting stripes of light across his face. He's on his phone, which Michael supposes is kind of rude, but occasionally whatever it is he is doing makes him smile and that makes Michael care less about manners. He wonders why it is he likes to look at that smile so much, but then he pushes the thought away; it's not something he's sure he wants the answer to.

Gavin gets up and puts his plate in the sink and Michael follows suit. Knowing how long Gavin can be about getting ready (he always loses his godawful "ironic" sunglasses and the keys to his bike) he offers to do the dishes for him, and Gavin happily accepts. Just before darting off to get properly dressed, he presses a quick kiss to Michael's cheek - his lips barely brush against skin, but the sensation makes Michael stop for a moment. He stands there with his hands submerged in the warm water, listening to Gavin's footsteps as he dissapears down the hallway.

It's not the first time Gavin's kissed one of the other crewmembers. Michael has seen him do it to Geoff once. They were all drunk then.

He resumes cleaning more slowly, rubbing large circles on the plates with a sponge.

This time both he and Gavin are sober, and Michael recognizes an experiment when he sees it. He can tell that Gavin is testing some kind of limit, but he dosen't know whose or why. Maybe Gavin dosen't know either. Maybe Michael wants to experiment too, to have Gavin kiss him on the mouth instead of teasing, pulling away, playing with him. He turns on the cold water and puts the last cup up to dry. Fucking fustrating, all of it.

-X-

A couple days later they are planning a job and Geoff keeps cracking his fingers. He's a little nervous, but he's confident it dosen't show.  The day before it's all supposed to go down, he goes for a walk to take his mind of an endless amount of what-ifs.

He breathes in the city air, bitter and tinged with smoke, headed for the first sleazy bar he can find where he drinks just enough that he looks forward to the robbery again. 

Afterwards, he puts the empty whiskey glass down on the desk and looks around the room. The lights are dim. In the semi-darkness, the sum of voices waxes and wanes around him. He catches the bartender looking at the tattoos on his hands and neck, and he wonders if the man recognizes the various gang signs. The little black symbol on his wrist makes men shudder in New York, the compass on his left hand still earns him respect among anyone who's been inside a prison in the American south. The newest addition to his collection is on his neck, and Geoff tilts his head as to let the bartender notice that one in particular.

It's a little black-and-green five pointed star. His own design. And he can't help but smile when he gets the next drink on the house. He downs the bitter liquid and sighs happily before rising to leave - then he notices a shadow in the back of the room. There one moment and gone the next. Geoff feels like he's seen a phantom - but there was a man, tall and wearing a skull-shaped mask over there in the shadows. He shudders and heads out on the street, looking over his shoulder. He's got a gun, that's common sense, so he's not afraid. He's just hyper-aware, his body falling back into an ingrained pattern.

A few hundred meters away he turns off the main street and into an alley. He's being pursued and he's not a coward, that's for sure. He pretends that he's searching for something in his pockets, waiting for his stalker to show himself.

He does. The man blocks the entrance to the blind alley so that he is backlit by the city lights. His shoulders are broad and he stands like he owns the city, owns the alley, owns Geoff, who now has loaded his gun without the man noticing. Geoff stares into the empty eyesockets of the black mask, at the man's hands. They're empty. The masked man takes a single step towards Geoff who dosen't move an inch.

Geoff pulls out the gun and aims it at him, holding it nonchalantly with only one hand. No reason to show any weakness.

"No reason to go that far," the man says. "Do you know who I am?"

"I think I'd remember someone like you," Geoff replies.

"And I thought we moved in the same circles." The skull mask betrays no emotion, his voice is still confident. Geoff figures none of them feel threatened by each other. That's not a bad position to be in, though he wishes he could make the stranger flinch. "Maybe you've heard of guy they call the Mad King?"

Now it's Geoff who is about to flinch. He dosen't, though, he reels himself in and does not let himself falter for a second. These kinds of meetings are all about looking like you know what you're doing, which is a skill Geoff has extensive experience with. "That you?"

"That's me."

"The mercenary responsible for the east-side jewelry heist?”

"That's me."

"Was it worth it?"

The man shrugs. "It was a very valuable crown, Geoff. Too tempting."

Geoff scoffs. "You gunned down the men you worked with for a piece of jewelry. Why would I - why would _anyone_ \- hire you after that?"

"Oh, I'm aware I've got some dirt on my resumé, but I'm not asking for much." The mercenary steps closer again. "You've got guts. You and Pattillo. And Michael and Ray and... what's he called? Gavin?"

"You've been observant."

"I have. If you want me, I want to work with you. Don't tell me you haven't ever wanted a guy shot or a house set on fire. That's what I do."

"You know I can't trust you."

"Come on, Ramsay. I'm intrigued by all of you, I really am. I just want along for the ride." The man stretches out his hand for Geoff. Tilts his head. "Deal?"

"Counter offer. You come along for a simple job tomorrow. No pay. You stay outside with one of my guys, hold off the cops. Keep the rest of us safe. Get a bullet in your skull if you don't. And if you fit in and work with us, you're in, own cuts and all."

"Just like that?"

"I don't do doubting one another or backstabbing. When you're in, you're part of the family. No backing out, no betraying us unless you want to be hunted down. Deal?"

Geoff rolls his shoulders, satisfied that he's shifted the balance. The terms are his now. He's the one holding out the metaphorical hand, if not the physical one.

In front of him, the mercenary nods.

They shake hands, and Geoff is pleased to discover that the handshake is firm and decisive. Not that he expected any less.

"You're a gent now," he says.

"Good. By the way, my name's Ryan. Ryan Haywood."

Again Geoff finds himself startled at the way Ryan subverts his expectations. The name has to be fake, but still, he is close to pausing for a second. He dosen't. "Do you prefer that to 'Mad King'?"

"Depends," Ryan says. His fingers go under the edge of the mask, and he removes it in one fell swoop, perhaps in a last attempt to get some reaction from Geoff. Underneath it, he's got light, long hair. Paint and makeup is liberally applied to his face from the dark, vertical stripes from forehead to cheek to the yellow tint around his eyes, making them appear glowing. "Sometimes, having a man call you king before you shoot him gives you such a rush." He smiles in a way that makes Geoff wonder if he's being genuinely threatening or if he's just joking around.

"You took the mask off," Geoff points out. It's not his brightest moment and it means Ryan was succesful.

"There's no need for it now," Ryan says. "It's just for intimidation purposes. See you around." 

"You know where to-"

Ryan's already out of the alley and back in the crowd.

Geoff relaxes, putting away his gun. He is smiling.

 -X-

The next morning they are all woken up by Gavin's scream at seven AM exactly. Geoff stumbles out of bed in a haze, grabbing the loaded gun he keeps in his bedside table as he goes. He tears open the door to his room and presses himself up against the wall, trying to locate Gavin. His heart is beating fast, and he hears Michael and Jack waking as well. Michael swears loudly, yells something about what the fuck Gavin is doing. Geoff presses forwards, headed for the front door.

He sees Gavin sitting on the floor, unhurt, staring up at - oh.

Ryan's standing there, dressed all in black, mask on. Right. Forgot to mention that.

As he stares at the scene, Michael runs in armed with nothing but his fists but looking like he's ready to kill someone anyway. When Geoff lowers his gun, he stops in his tracks and looks confused from his boss to the intruder.

"What's going on?" he asks. When no one answers, he goes and pulls Gavin up, relieved when he's sure his friend is unhurt. Then he turns to Ryan. "Who the fuck are you?" he asks, but it's more of a warning about imminent assault than a question.

"That's Ryan," Geoff says, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Should've mentioned that. He... wanted in. He'll be joining us today. He's on team A, for the record."

"With Gavin?!" Michael asks.

"With Gavin," Geoff confirms. "At least you're precise," he adds, speaking to Ryan.

Ryan simply wanders into the apartment and has a look around before sitting down on the couch, still wearing his mask and staring into nothing. The sight is so surreal Geoff feels like going back to bed, but the adrenaline rush would make it hard to fall asleep again. He might as well keep going. Around him, the others come to the same conclusion and they all get started on their morning routines ignoring the masked, murderous elephant in the room.

When Ray arrives they are all having breakfast together, which is unusual. Ryan sitting there too, staring at a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice, is even more unusual. Ray looks from Geoff's tired acceptance to Jack's skepticism to Michael's barely disguised suspicion to Gavin who seems more interested in his food than the masked man. Just as Ray sits down, Ryan pulls of the mask - his facepaint is slightly different today, more red and blue than before. Later, Geoff will pinpoint this moment as exact the point in time where it all started to go either down- or up-hill depending on your point of view.

Ray looks like he's seen a roman god. He tries to hide it, but Geoff knows. Ryan returns the look, a sly smile on his lips.

 


	2. Part 2

 

  
The job goes off smoothly. Of course Geoff's definition of smooth includes copious amounts of gunfire and death and splintered glass, but still.

Ray is on his rooftop half an hour before the rest of them arrive. He watches the store through the sights of his rifle, flexing his fingers in anticipation of pulling the trigger. Jack parks the car in the designated spot, not leaving the driver's seat. Geoff, Michael and Ryan, who has been quiet the whole ride, get out together with Gavin following them on his bike.

Michael goes with Geoff inside the small place, and he makes an excellent negotiator when the time comes to make the cashier  _drop everything right now, dont even think about starting the alarms, give us everything you have._  He's fucking terrifying when he gets angry (or pretends to), and Geoff loves the sight of him when he's burning red. They get hard cash that Geoff packs into a suitcase, hundred dollar bills between his fingers, and then they run and Geoff feels so alive. A mad dash through the doors where Ryan and Gavin are waiting - he left Gavin out there because he figured it'd be easier for him to get away if things went bad, but he's going to be ok - and then they can all hear sirens. They are halfway to the car before the first gunshots start ringing out. Ryan is a beast back by the entrance, shooting down two cops at point-blank range before running for cover and yanking Gavin with him. Geoff keeps running, Michael's a bit ahead of them and suddenly, there's a cop in their way.

There's gunshots and then the way is clear again. The wound is perfectly between the eyes, and Geoff anticipates Ray's bragging as he jumps into the backseat of Jack's car - or, well, it's not hers per se, which is why they can throw it into the harbor afterwards. Ryan isn't hindered by the fact that there is no more space in the car itself; Gavin leaves the door hanging open and Ryan hangs on, providing suppressing fire as they speed away.

Gavin yells something incoherent, Jack focuses on the road, gets them safely away from the noise. They stop far away from the main street and exit the car, head down the labyrinth of alleyways and empty houses that will get them home. Michael turns on his phone, fingers dancing and tapping.

"Ray's alright," he declares, almost out of breath.

And Ray does stumble in the door of the apartment at about the same time as everyone else, a bit exhausted-looking, but otherwise fine. He marches right to the rest of them - they haven't yet come around to celebrating, they're still on their toes, not even counting the money yet - and raises three fingers in the air.

"Three headshots," he says.

"I got six," Ryan says, a cocky smile on his face.

"You were close. That's an advantage."

"You weren't in the thick of it."

"I saved your life," Ray says, inching closer to Ryan who leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"I distracted them from you," Ryan replies. His arms fall down his side as he takes a step forward.

"I saw it." Ray raises an eyebrow. ”It looked bloody.”

"It was. I saw you too." Ryan says, tilting his head. Then he leans in.

Ray closes the distance between them in one swift motion, presses their lips together - there's nothing gentle about it, his hands pulling at Ryan's hair so much it's got to hurt and Ryan digging his fingernails into Ray's neck. It lasts barely a moment before Ray lets go of Ryan and pulls back, licking his lips. Only then does he put the bag containing his weapon down. They look at each other, both waiting for something. In fact, the whole room is tense and still. Geoff doesn't know what to say. He's scared that Michael will spontaneously combust.

Gavin fires off a party popper.

As the pink and gold confetti rains down upon them, it's still quiet, only now everyone is looking at Gavin, still holding the empty toy in his hand.

"I brought it with me to celebrate a heist well done," he explains. "This seemed like an appropriate moment, don't you think?"

"No, Gavin," Michael says. "I don't think so."

"Oh. _Anyway_ , congrats you two."

Ray and Ryan stare at each other with equal parts confusion, tension and something Geoff can't place.

"Yeah. What Gavin said," he says. Then a little louder, "Well done, guys. Let's count our cash."

That activity distracts everyone enough that things go back to normal for a little bit, and now, Geoff has a theory as to why Ryan didn't need the money.

-X-

It only gets better from there.

Their reputation gets bigger, their budget larger, their lives more luxurious. Everything gets faster; the new car (it's Michael's and Geoff knows how much he loves it), the heists, their reaction time when Geoff gets a tip about their rival's movements.

And of course, everything gets more complicated between them. At first he kind of misses how it used to be; when they were just acquaintances working together because of a single shared goal. Now it's no secret that Ryan stays around because he and Ray are  _fucking_  - the mercenary spends a third of his nights on the apartment's couch and the other two-thirds wherever Ray sleeps. That'd be okay, Geoff doesn't judge them for wanting to live a little, if not for the fact that them being together means a few awkward questions for the rest of them.

Mainly Gavin.

Gavin, who is suddenly right there next to Geoff when he sits down to watch TV, so close that he can feel his body heat. Gavn who stumbles into the wrong bed once and says he was drunk, sorry, when Geoff knows he wasn't. Gavin who calls Michael 'love' but is far away before anyone asks him what he means. And one day, when Geoff is guiding his drunk ass up the stairs to their apartment, supporting him as he stumbles, he asks Gavin a question that's been a long time coming, billowing up from his tense stomach and smoke-filled lungs.

"Gavin, are you in love with Michael?"

"Psh. No," is the answer he recives, but Gavin was never a good liar.

"Are you in love with me, then?" Geoff continues, his voice as flat and emotionless as he can make it, as if he is just asking about the weather.

"It's not-" Gavin slurs, "It's not like that." He tears himself away from Geoff, puts his back to the handrail so there's some distance between them.

Everything points to Gavin wanting Geoff to back away and let the subject go, but now that he's finally started Geoff can't bring himself to stop asking questions - and even though he isn't used to using that particular tactic with Gavin, he knows how to intimidate, knows that he has the upper hand there in the empty stairwell. "What is it, then?"

"It's hard is what is is..." 

Geoff looks Gavin in the eye even though the other man does his dammed best to avoid his gaze. "You can talk to me, Gavin."

"Look, I don't want to. Let's just... Let it go-"

Geoff comes closer, _looks_ at him in the way he usually looks at hired underlings and people he's about to shoot. It's a look that works wonders and makes him feel a bit bad about himself,  but he assures himself that it's the only way.

"...I think I love too much, I mean..." Gavin exhales. To Geoff, it looks like he's giving up, pressing his body further away but letting go of his tight grasp of the handrail. "Too many at once, maybe? An' I don't wanna choose, not between the lot o' you."

Geoff needs a second to understand and he watches Gavin sway a little, looking at the ground.

"So... You're saying both, then," Geoff states.

"'Ryan."

"What?"

"Ryan too," Gavin mumbles, "Ev'ryone, kinda, just not as much if that makes sense."

"That's-" Geoff begins, but Gavin cuts him off.

"Ryan's th' one who came up makin' an arrangement. What if we were all-" Gavin takes a step forward, all up in Geoff's personal space. "What if we were all, like, one big thing? I know, by the way, the way you look at Jack sometimes. An' I think Michael saved Ray's number for a reason, but if we - if we did  _that_ , then we wouldn't have to choose."

"Let me help you-" Geoff offers, catching Gavin just when he's about to stumble again. He hooks his arm around Gavin's shoulders and gets them both going again. Gavin smells of alcohol, but underneath it is the scent of _him_ that Geoff is only now noticing. They make it a bit further up the stairs before he continues. He dosen't have much to say, though. He just sighs and says "Fuck it. If that makes you happy, Gavin. We'll talk."

Gavin giggles. The sound starts loud in his chest and grows lighter.

When they enter the apartment, Ray is there, the only one of them who is still completely sober, and the sound of Gavin's laughter makes him smile. Michael watches them stumble through the living room.

Geoff places Gavin on his bed and then leaves him there for an hour and a half before he, too, goes to sleep there. The bed is large enough that they don't need to be close; not even touching, but just Gavin's presence makes the whole world different to Geoff. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, he drapes an arm over the sleeping young man beside him, and by morning, they are all but entwined.

 -X-

Gavin wakes up first, panicking a little, heart racing breath stuck in his throat and _oh god, what did he do?_

Nothing, really, he gathers. He sits up and makes inventory. He's still wearing pants. That's a start. But he figures something must have happened for him to wake up spooning with Geoff. His hangover-headache makes it hard to think.

He carefully leaves the bed - thankfully, Geoff remains fast asleep - and gathers a shirt from the floor. Puts it on. Leaves.

In the kitchen, he sees Jack sitting with her cup of tea, auburn hair shining in the morning sunlight. It's too bright.

"Morning," she says.

Gavin nods.

"Things went down last night, I take it?" Jack continues. 

"I don't know."

"Where are you going?"

"Just... Getting some fresh air, that's all." The words come out too quick, almost a bit frantic. He knows that. He just wants to stay away for a little while, just until Geoff wakes up so he dosen't have to sit around waiting or face Geoff going from sleepy to wide aware of whatever he remembers. Gavin is afraid that he might have ruined something. Everything, maybe.

He makes for the front door, but just before he reaches it, a different door slams open centimeters from his face. Gavin jumps involuntarily and stares into Michael's face. Michael looks like he, too, has one hell of a hangover, but the hand on Gavin's shoulder is firm.

"Gav," Michael says, his voice pretty serious and now Gavin is  _really_  scared. "Gavin," he repeats.

"...Morning, Michael."

"You look like there's something really wrong."

"It's..."

"What do you remember from last night?"

Gavin bites his lip. Tries not to look at Michael, who he now realizes isn't wearing anything from the waist up. Okay. "Not a lot."

Michael isn't the type to sugarcoat things. "You confessed everything, dude."

Oh god.

"I was there. Heard you talking to Geoff. About me and Ryan, too. An' then Geoff talked to us."

Oh. God.

Then Michael does the most unexpected thing - he reaches out, grabs hold of Gavin's head and kisses him on the lips. There is none of Gavin's playful just-kidding attitude, no experimentation: Michael is taking what he wants, what he knows Gavin wants. "Don't go," he breathes, and Gavin nods. Turns away from the door.

He can deal with this.

Before he knows it, Jack has them both enveloped in a hug from behind. It's not tight or uncomfortable, it's just... there. Better than Gavin thought a hug could be. She lets go soon enough, a slight tired drawl in her voice - "Want some tea, Gavin?"

"Yes please," is all Gavin can manage. On his way to his mug of chamomile infusion he sees Ray curled up under a purple blanket on the couch. Hears Ryan waking up in the guest bedroom. Hears Geoff snore.

He can't help but grin a little.

-X-

Once the rocky morning-after is past them, the arrangement works out much better than any of them dared to expect. Gavin goes from borrowing the couch to borrowing beds, Ray  _almost_  stops secluding himself and Jack gets to kiss Geoff on the cheek and watch her boys wake up, waiting for them all with a cup of tea in her hand.

Ryan never really had - or wanted - someplace to call home, but he's starting to think this might be it.

Okay, he's not really the most normal guy, he knows that. He doesn't sleep with the same schedule as everyone else. And he's not as good as the rest of them when he comes to sharing the people he loves - he doesn't mind the arrangement, but he can't suppress a certain possessive urge to make sure that when Michael's hand rubs the back of Ray's neck, he'll find a mark that Ryan left. 

But he still fits in like the last piece of a puzzle.

He fits in the space between Michael and Jack when they gather 'round to watch Gavin challenge everyone else to asinine contests. He fits in the space in the apartment that would be too empty and cold without him. He fits into the blackness of Geoff's shadow when he goes down to meet shady dealers in the dead of night and he fits in between words and sentences when they talk about everything and nothing.

When they head for the promenade in the summer, about five months after he joined up, he carries a grenade with him in his pocket and the others just accept that. They're all a little weird. Ryan gets to watch Michael eat candy floss in amounts that Ryan could have sworn would be enough to kill a grown man while Gavin films it and Geoff pays for the ordeal. He gets to play a parody of a highschool boyfriend when he leans against the carnival booth as Ray shoots targets to the best of his ability only to find that he's not as good at close range as he thought. Jack performs better, winning a giant teddy bear. (She later puts the godawful thing in her room and lets it model her headdresses and jewelry as well as the occasional army knife). Ryan has a go too. The other two stand behind him and giggle as he misses before looking at the carnie with a glare Ray would later describe as "murderous". The next shot is a bullseye, and while his prize is much smaller than Jack's, he's satisfied when he hands it over to Ray, who jokes around it, but might like it. Ryan doesn't see it ever again, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Ray keeps many things to himself.

-X-

Sometimes he takes things too. Sometimes, when Jack is sitting on the apartment's small balcony, Ray decides to drop by. He wanders over to the potted plants and squats down to inspect them. It's Jack's garden, one of a kind. She's got small daisies, a few herbs and various flowers from the bargain bin in the supermarket last spring. And the roses, really not suited for being grown in a little pot so far off the ground, but red and vibrant even if they are smaller than they should be.

Ray touches them gently, asking something like,

”Can I borrow these?”

Today the answer is ”I don't think  _borrowing_  is the right word, Ray, but... Okay. For what?”

He shrugs. ”Love and stuff.”

Jack puts down the newspaper and looks at Ray. Raises a single eyebrow.

Ray pretends he doesn't notice. ”I'll just break this off then-” he begins, but then he stands up with a little startled yelp. ”What the fuck?!”

”What is it?” Jack asks disinterestedly.

”I almost lost my fingers.”

"Yeah, roses have thorns but-"

"Not the thorns, Jack. There's a knife under there!"

”Be careful. We need those fingers.”

”We do. Christ, Jack...” Ray isn't as mad as he sounds, Jack knows that. She watches him cut off a few roses and take them away to whereever. She really always lets him because they usually end up in the shared space anyway, nice and decorative even if they do look out of place. She resumes reading the newspaper after checking if Ray took the jackknife with him and, upon happily disovering that it's still there, moving it to another pot and letting it stay there under the leaves. She dosen't forget about her tools.

-X-

Ray waits for him. There are long periods where they just don't see each other for days on end when Ryan is out working and Ray is waiting for a chance to take his shot, but in between these periods are the times where they work together or the occasions where Ryan helps Ray remove the evidence. In Ryan's opinion this is best done by arson. He likes seeing the flames rise after he lights the match and throws it onto gasoline-soaked carpet. He loves the way the fire shines on Ray's face, on his own hands. He loves it when the inferno appears from nothing, when he has to run to get away before it goes completely out of control.

He lives for hearts pounding and tires screeching, pulling off the pin from a grenade and throwing it into the crowd.

Los Santos' most wanted.

The rush of it all makes him higher than any drug (and he's tried a few, never quite getting hooked), and unlike before when he was on his own, he dosen't have to feel the crash now. There's just the same kind of pleasant warmth everywhere in his body. He sees the same fire in Michael's hands, in the corners of Gavin's mouth and in Jack's eyes. It's in Geoff's movements, in Ray's footsteps when he picks up speed, runs to find Ryan waiting for him and leaps onto the back of a motorbike because  _shit, we actually got away with it._

-X-

There are a few close calls.

There's one time that Ryan vividly recalls, about four months after the first heist. He's out by the harbor in the middle of the night, and only a few streetlights give him anything to go on as he runs down the docks, looking for the boat that Geoff said he'd have secured by now. Ryan's got a suitcase full of valuables, but he's more concerned about his life at that moment. Sirens are coming closer. The lights of the police-cars are suddenly too close, and then the cops get out. Armed. Ryan's semi-automatic is out of bullets and his grenade-launcher is certain death at this range where he'll get caught in the explosion. He takes a step back, stands on the edge of the concrete. Behind him, there is only the murky water. No cover in sight.

He is just about to accept that he has no choice but to go out in a blaze when he hears a voice out from the darkness, telling him to jump.

Jump backwards into the water, hope he doesn't get shot or drowned, hope that they find him.

Ryan fires a grenade as he jumps which doesn't do wonders for his aiming. He doesn't see the results, only the explosion as the blast helps throw him further backwards and deep down into the water. All his soaked clothing pulls him down, and at first he struggles to pull of the mask before he manages. He waves his arms. Yells - "I'm here, I'm here - Where are you?"

A hand grabs his and pulls him up onto a beaten-up speedboat. He remembers his mind singing out that _they came back for him_ , they pull him back into his element. 

He remembers Michael saying something along the lines of "Holy shit. That was some exit."

 

There's also the time where it's Michael, back up against the wall and everyone else in the process of bailing because the police somehow got a tip (Geoff later announces that the culprit is an outsider, but for all the others know Geoff might just be covering for someone). Gavin plays the hero this time. Instead of doing what should be the sensible thing and  _get the hell away_ , Gavin turns his bike around and crashes into the cop about to shoot Michael, throwing his friend a gun and setting off an escape that he later is more than happy to elaborate on with exaggerated movements and spoken sound-effects. Still, Geoff notices Michael's shaking hands, and Gavin doesn't take it as lightly as he pretends to either.

It's not a good omen. That sort of thing is not supposed to happen in a gang where the first priority should be not getting captured - minimizing the damage instead of playing the hero. And the aftermath is that a few days later, Michael and Gavin both get a little black star tattooed, Gavin's behind his ear and Michael's on his lower forearm. 

 

Before they know it, they all find their way to that symbol in one way or another. Jack has the star on her hand, Ray gets it on his wrist. Both times the star is small, easy to cover up with another tattoo or some makeup should the need arise.  Ryan doesn't usually allow any marks on his body because he has an amazing track record of killing most of the crews he has worked with either directly or indirectly. But this time, he allows himself to believe that they can make it work, that it won't fall apart. He gets the same star on his upper back. It won't come to haunt him in the mirror, but it'll be for the others to see.

Geoff wears it proudly as a badge of honor alongside the dots and birds and symbols.

-X-

It's Ryan's idea to hit the bank. It's not because they need the money as much as to see if they can. To make a bit of history.

They sit around the table while Jack reads a list of security measures the bank might have taken to prevent people like them from doing things like that.

"Reinforced vaults," she says, "To open them would require large amounts of explosives, making it impossible to remain unnoticed. Maybe it'll even make the building fall."

But Ryan only looks towards Gavin. "Think you can handle that?"

He nods excitedly, eyes lighting up at the thought of a challenge. The thought of doing it in any other way than with a bang does not even occur to most of them.

"After the explosion we're going to have to work around more police," Jack continues.

"Me and Ryan can be up front," Michael suggests. "We can cover you while you head for the vault and back again."

Geoff takes a swig out of his little flask and considers his options. "That's Ray up on a rooftop," he begins, counting on his fingers, "Michael and Ryan inside covering Gavin, who deals with the vault. Jack, you were going to have a stolen car ready, right?"

"Yep."

"That leaves me. I'm thinking we should have more than one getaway vehicle. Different positions because that's more safe. And then I'll join Gavin. Ray, you're going to warn us when you see the cops, okay?"

Ray nods.

"And if something goes wrong we'll need to meet at some landmark."

"Up the mountain," Gavin suggests, "The place where Jack crashed that helicopter two months ago."

"...Fine," Geoff says.

"Damn right it is," Gavin adds.

-X-

 

Two days before the heist, Gavin stumbles in at three AM. He takes one look at the apartment - the lights are off, the only sound is that of faint breathing - and decides the best course of action is to be quiet. He takes off his shoes and makes his way, slowly, through main area where someone is passed out on the couch. He inches closer, careful not to disturb the person.

Ryan lies rigid and still as a corpse, but his features seem more relaxed than usually. His hands are empty, but Gavin is afraid to wake him because there is no doubt in his mind that Ryan has some sort of weapon close by, even now. He likes sleeping next to Ryan anyway, but he doesn't want to deal with waking him up and getting him to move aside what with all the protests he'll surely have. So Gavin leaves his sleeping comrade and makes his way into a bathroom, turning on the lights that suddenly shine too bright.

Now he can see the bloodstains in the mirror. He starts the slow process of cleaning it off, not wanting to smell like death when he goes to sleep tonight. He's tired already. Everything is heavy, from his eyelids to his hands when they trace small circles on his face and neck. He rubs his palms until they're an irritated, sore pink to remove the stains. Then, finally, he is satisfied.

Back in the hallway, everything is quiet. Then a noise, a loud boom, startles Gavin. It bellows through the hallway, but it feels distant and it takes him a while to realizes that it's just thunder. It reminds him of England. The memory of that place makes him shudder a bit before he forces it away again. He glances through the first door to his right into Geoff's room. He has a feeling that the door was left ajar just for him, but Gavin walks by. He continues past the next door, the one that leads to Jack. Ray's not in the apartment at all tonight, but he'll probably be there either tomorrow or the day after. (He comes around at least four or five times a week now. He usually closes the door to the guest bedroom, though, but Gavin has seen him sleep, all curled up like a small animal).

Gavin stops in front of the last door on his left. He opens it slowly, tiptoes in like a little kid. There are clothes on the floor and a couple empty cups on the desk; cables run from the walls to the TV. The blinders are down, leaving the room dark, but the window is open and that means Gavin can hear the rain. He stops there, listening. Behind and under the sound of rain is Michael's breathing. Gavin turns around to see him lying on his bed with his back towards the door. He's wearing nothing but his boxers and a grey t-shirt, and Gavin knows this because Michael has somehow managed to kick his blanket to the floor.

It's not easy for him to get undressed without making noise. The sound of fabric-against-fabric is hardly noticeable normally, but now Gavin feels like it's the loudest thing in the world. He almost stumbles as he steps out of his jeans. When he's down to his t-shirt and underwear, he sits down onto the bed, on the twenty centimeters Michael's left for him. He considers moving or pushing him around to make more space but it's hard for Gavin to bring himself to disturb him. Then a sleepy, low voice comes from the dark beside him, tinged with equal parts annoyance and love.

"Just come here, Gav," it says.

He moves aside just enough so that they can both lie side by side and Gavin happily does as suggested, draping an arm around Michael's waist for good measure. Michael is already asleep again and as such cannot protest, and Gavin picks up the blanket on the floor and drapes it over the both of them. Sighs. Listens to the thunder.

-X-

Michael hums along to the mindless pop song playing on the car radio. He's sitting in the backseat with Ryan who keeps looking out the window, looking at anything but Michael or Jack up in the driver's seat. The streets around them are almost deserted. They've chosen a good time to get to work.

"You alright back there?" Jack asks, adjusting the rear view mirror. Like some suburban mom dropping her kids of at the daycare, Michael thinks. Jack continues, saying "Don't get killed, alright?"

Yeah, okay, illusion lost. They're three assholes in a car again, it's all bloody serious. Michael clenches and unclenches his fists. He longs for the car to stop so he can step outside and breathe. When it finally happens, Ryan looks at him with an unreadable expression before leading the way up to the entrance of the unfortunate bank. Michael looks to the rooftop across the street, imagines he can see a flash of sunlight reflected in a rifle scope. He knows the street already, having visited the place multiple times before to prepare for the heist. Broad marble steps lead up to the double doors with the bank's name above them, and inside there will be a row of cashiers behind desks, like in some old film.

When Michael steps inside, he does feel like a film hero. He gets that moment of clarity that he remembers from when he used to start fights for the hell of it. A minute where everything is clear and cool and his thoughts flow properly, one after the other like he supposes normal people feel all the time. He watches Ryan intently and figures the other man gets the same rush. They share that. They nod at each other. This is a moment that investigators will rewatch over and over on CCTV.

Geoff, having taken Michael's car so they'd have a backup getaway vehicle, arrives looking like he owns the place - all dressed up and for once without stubble. Gavin arrives moments later, having taken his own bike and left it somewhere outside, and he walks with Geoff as he saunters up to the front desk and stares at the poor lady behind it. He dosen't look her in the eyes.

She turns towards him on her swivel chair, and while Michael can't hear what she's saying he guesses it's something about whether or not Geoff is having a nice day and what he wants. Geoff makes it pretty clear what he wants.

"Cooperate and nobody gets hurt!" His voice echoes off the walls when the room suddenly goes dead quiet, and Michael's heart beats faster at the sound. "Hands in the air - This is a robbery."

They aren't the type of crew who would do a note job.

Michael takes a deep breath. There is whispering around the room, people freeze on the spot - then he takes his gun out and points it at the ceiling, pressing the trigger briefly and firing off one, two, three warning shots. Ryan puts on his mask and does the same although he angles his weapon so that the bullets make holes in the walls, edging a bit too close to the heads of the panicking people around them.

This is the moment that'll make the investigators shit themselves.

Everything happens in a rush. The clock is ticking as Geoff waves Gavin over and follows him deeper into the bank. Gavin has two bags with him, one for money and one for explosives, and the unequal weight of them makes him run with flailing arms and clumsy steps. Michael locks eyes with him once as he runs by and sees how serious he looks for once.

Michael watches Ryan herd the people together like cattle, wondering how much experience the man has with this kind of job. He looks like he enjoys the sight of them kneeling before him, the way he keeps looking down. Michael looks for any sign of Gavin or Geoff, tightens his grip around his gun. It's just a matter of time before he'll be hearing the sirens outside, and Michael can't wait for the tension of the wait to be over with. He keeps his weapon at the ready with one hand- not that he plans on using it before the cops arrive - and with the other, he finds the handheld transceiver. (Gavin told Geoff that they were old fashioned and that no respectable criminal would use something called a  _walkie-talkie,_  but Geoff put his hand down on the issue. Michael doesn't mind it). Pressing a button, he hears static flare up before he speaks.

"You alright Gavin?"

The voice on the other end is distant as if he's doing a million other things while talking. "Yeah, yeah, we're working on it," Gavin says, stressing every word.

Michael lowers the receiver again and shakes his head as to indicate to Ryan that nothing's happened yet. He stands still for a little while longer, and by now he's sure the hostages are able to hear his loud, loud heartbeat. He's not usually this flustered. Why is he now?

The receiver buzzes alive with the sound of Ray's voice, ripping Michael from his thoughts.

"I see them," Ray half-whispers, "A few streets over. You've got five, max ten minutes."

Michael dosen't answer.

Ryan, having heard the message as well, looks down at the man at his feet in a way that makes the poor guy whimper.

They all wait.

Michael closes his eyes and now, the sirens aren't his imagination anymore.

"Why the fuck aren't Gavin and Geoff hurrying," Michael mutters.

"I don't-" Ryan begins, but he is silenced - everything is silenced - by a dull  _boom_  as an explosion goes off deeper inside the building. Michael feels no shockwave, but the sound alone shocks him to his core. Bits of plaster rains from the ceiling, dust suspended in the air for one long moment between the press of a button and the time Michael asks what happened.

The only thing he hears is static.

"Gavin?" he repeats, looking frantically - aware that he looks frantical - from Ryan to the windows.

When the stupid  _walkie-talkie_  finally makes a sound it's Ray's voice, not panicked, but somewhat worried. "They're pulling up to the building, Michael."

"They're too fast," Ryan states, "Must've been expecting us."

"Must have," Michael snaps, "But right now, let's fucking focus on getting those idiots and our cash out-"

If Ray notices his priorities, he doesn't mention it. All he says is, "I'm going to tell the Boss what you called him,"

"Be my fucking guest. We've gotta-"

"Maybe you should run for it," Ray suggests, his voice  _changed_ and tinged by the plastic between them.

The sound of cars coming to a screeching halt outside says much the same. Michael mouths an expletive.

"I know." Michael looks at Ryan, hoping that a glare can convey everything he doesn't have time to say. That yeah, they should run. That's what any person with their specific kind of common sense would do. But there's no fucking way he can do that, not after the last months. Ryan looks at him like he's crazy, but Michael wants him to understand that he feels as he does because of something that Ryan started.

"I'm taking a shot now." Ray's voice again. The warning helps, stops Michael from flinching when the gunshot echoes outside, and maybe there's the sound of a body hitting the ground, too. Ryan's stance softens, his face still hidden under the mask, before he gestures towards the area behind the front desk with his gun.

"I'll keep them off you."

"What's going on-" Ray begins, but Michael throws the receiver to Ryan - if the situation was any different he'd make a comment about Ryan and Ray and phone sex or something - and then he gets a running start, jumps across the desk and bolts down the hallway, following the tendrils of smoke to his destination.

-X-

Ray watches the world down below through his scope.

There's a rhythm to what he does. Press the trigger, load the next bullet, click-click-click, all in-between the beats of his heart.

He remembers pressing his palm to Michael's chest. Michael had stepped out of the shower moments earlier, skin still damp under Ray's fingerstips. He had touched the five-pointed black star with the green edges and he had felt Michael's heartbeat. It was faster than his own.

He presses the trigger. Recoil pulls him back to the situation at hand, takes him out of autopilot. In between that shot and the next he remembers walking into Geoff's room and seeing a milion notes scattered on and under the bed, wondering if anyone else ever went to such an extent to keep him safe.

He's stopped thinking of what he does as murdering for profit. Now he kills to protect. He thinks that this is somehow worse. He picks and chooses from his vantage point atop the building, saying  _these people are worth less than those._  If Ryan was there, he'd say that that was a fair viewpoint. And then he'd place a warm hand on Ray's back. Ray just pulls the trigger again.

-X-

Every step he takes feels heavy. The hallway's mint green walls blur before his eyes as he runs into an open door, finding the room where the smoke is thickest. The lights in the ceiling have been knocked out leaving the room only dimly lit. He can hear coughing. As the dust disperses around him, he sees sees a man kneeling on the floor. The black jacket belongs to Geoff. Mchael goes to his side and pulls him up. The fact that Geoff doesn't grip his hand tightly calms him; the older man still appears like he's got everything under control.

"Sorry," he coughs, "Lost the reciever."

"Where's Gav?" Michael asks, and Geoff points in response.

Michael takes a deep breath and moves towards the far corner of the small room. There are a few empty shelves and a table pushed up against the wall and there - coming up from under the table - he sees Gavin, who looks a bit shaken, but alright. Gavin's eyes dart to the vault, and Michael understands. He pulls at the door - the metal is discoloured now, turned and wrought into strange angles and protrusions. The vault is heavy and only opens slowly, still resisting but ultimately damaged so much by the blast that Michael can see the green bills inside. He turns towards Gavin whose face is lit up in a smile - "You better fill your bag pretty fucking fast, Gav. The cops are on our ass."

Gavin gets to work without any delay, and Michael helps him - grabs the small bundles and tries to think about how he'll feel when they're all back at home because right now he can't help but think about the dangers of the heist more than anything else. Geoff places a hand on his shoulder and Michael turns to see his face.

"How bad is it?"

"Ray sounded like it was going to be pretty bad. I don't know if they're at the front steps now but-"

"Let's go."

Michael can't help but stare a bit as Geoff takes charge, sending Gavin a look that makes him zip up his bag, hoist it over his shoulder and draw his pistol.

They hear gunfire, dulled by the walls but still too close and as one, the three of them start running.

In the silence between gunshots, Michael feels as if he's gone deaf. He can only hear the blood rushing through his veins as he follows Geoff down the hallway, dreading what they might find on the other end. When Michael steps into the main hall, everything seems bright white in comparison to where they've come from, sunlight falling in through the windows, the walls the same shade of light grey as the marble floor. There are bullet holes in the -thankfully still closed - entrance doors, and Michael follow the rays of sunlight coming through them to the floor where their hostages still huddle up. There's three bodies laying down, but Michael can't tell if they're exhausted or executed, if the shaking shoulders and hidden faces are a result of sobbing or convulsions. Amidst all of that is an overturned table where Ryan kneels, his body a black, dark silhouette. His gun is pointed at the doors and he does not look away for a moment even as Geoff speaks to him.

"What's happening?" Geoff inquires, stepping up to take cover beside Ryan, who answers hurriedly.

"Someone pressed some alarm, who knows - The cops are right outside and Ray says we've got 10 minutes max before reinforcements arrive."

"What do we do?" Gavin stutters, running a hand through his hair in panic and sending a little cloud of dust out into the air. "Do we - Do we make a run for it or-"

"Split up," Ryan suggests. There's a weight to his voice as he speaks, one that Michael hasn't heard before. "Jack's down the street to the left."

Michael clenches his grip around his pistol. They've no time to think out a plan. "We've no choice but rushing to our deaths?!" he exclaims, "Alright, fuck it. I'll cover you. Gavin, can you go to Jack's?"

"Yes. You'll-"

"Try to make it there too" Michael says, his voice growing exasperated, "Ryan and Geoff, maybe you'll head for the other car, that fine with you?"

Geoff touches his neck, a fleeting gesture that Michael knows the meaning of. Ryan seems more like he's preparing for battle, cracking his knuckles, making Gavin cringe at the sound.

"Let's go," Geoff suddenly exclaims, and he fixes his jacket so he at least looks respectable. "Gavin, hand me the other bag. Split the money."

Gavin hesitates only a second before doing as he is asked.

Ryan nods at him, uttering a single low "Boss" before stepping out from behind his barricade and ramming the fucking door, the rest of them right behind him.

Michael wants to yell, to scream his lungs out. He doesn't. As he runs, almost stumbling down the marble steps, some part of him manages to remain calm and take notice of where the weakest link in the blockade before them must be. He counts about nine policemen dressed in black and blue with matching cars parked in a semi-circles around them, but Michael has the jump on them, watching them take a moment too long to react. Before they've all aimed properly at the madmen running towards them, Michael has already unloaded his gun into the nearest person, a blonde, old, dead man whose entire body shakes as he is hit multiple times in the chest.

Michael is vaguely aware of something similar going on beside him, of the booming sound of a grenade. Gavin runs in front of him, and Michael catches only glimpses of white knuckles, wide eyes and blood trailing down his arm before he vaults across one of the vehicles, landing just next to a woman who falls down moments after, hit right between the eyes by some unseen though not unknown sniper. He stops there for a moment, looking at Michael but unable to speak to him. They're both half deaf from the gunshots and the screams, but Michael knows Gavin says  _follow me_. Then he turns away and runs for it, confident that Michael will follow him even though -

Even though it's misplaced confidence. Seconds after he's turned around some asshole pushes Michael down until he collides with the asphalt. The rough ground scrapes against his face and hands and oh, the asshole is Geoff and they both literally dodged a bullet. Gavin's long gone.

Geoff pulls at his wrist and gets him back up on his feet, yells something Michael doesn't understand and then leads him away, maybe right, Michael doesn't know. He's lost all concept of right way or wrong way by the time the next man falls down at his feet and a bullet goes within inches of his shoulder. All he wants is go get away. Something has triggered in Geoff, making the otherwise so composed man fight not only for himself, but for Michael, too - Michael somehow knows that if he was to stop, Geoff wouldn't leave him. He's lost all track of Ryan, but he has to be somewhere close.

His heart is beating too fast and Michael is out of breath as he gets through a narrow gap between two cars, rushing down the empty street behind the blockade. He knows Geoff is right behind him and, turning around for a second, he fires once at the man pursuing them. He doesn't register whether it's a hit or a miss; he just keeps running. Down to the right, left, into the side alley - he finds a car, his car, where Geoff left it, watches Geoff follow him and throw himself into the driver's seat. Michael grabs a round of ammo from the back and gets in the front seat. When Geoff starts the engine and pulls out, accelerating in a way that pulls on Michael's stomach, the younger man can lean out the window and watch the two cars picking up pursuit of them. He tries to hit them and manages to crack the glass of their windshield before Geoff takes the car around a corner in a sharp turn that sends Michael back in his seat.

"Where are we going?!" he asks.

Geoff furrows his brows and looks into the rearview mirror. "I don't know - I'm just driving I-"

"Get out of the city at least," Michael exclaims. "Straight here and then turn to get out right?"

"Don't order me around;" Geoff jokes, and Michael wonders how he can do that now. "Hold on tight."

Michael bites his lip as they run a red light and as they continue through a flash of alleys and tunnels, the taste of blood spreads through his mouth. They're headed out of town where they can hide in the hills, find their way to a safehouse on the docks or the meeting point up the mountain - they have to make their way around the big, blocked roads, straying on the fringes of the map. There are helicopters in the sky, Michael notices, but they don't seem to be chasing him and Geoff. They're chasing a silver car as it speeds down the main road, and though Michael can only see it for a second as they head through a crossing he knows without any doubt that it is Jack's. Know's they're done for.

The sight sends everything surging inside him.

Michael's view is blocked by buildings and fences and vans before he can see Jack hit the other car and come to a sudden, violent halt. His brain is more than willing to supply him with images, though.

He hates the fact that they are divided and scrambling and fleeing away from each other - most of all he wants to jump out the car and follow the helicopters and shoot them down so he can help Jack and Gavin like he feels he should. Like he knows he shouldn't because it'd be suicide and like nobody in any gang he's ever heard of ever did. Because only the six of them and him in particular could be so stupid. Geoff seems to know what Michael thinks, because he barks out a command and makes him focus on shooting their two pursuers again. As Geoff takes them onto a bridge, Michael gets a hit in and watches the man in the passenger seat in the closet of the two police cars fall over, the windshield cracking and just a bit of red splattering onto the driver who swerves, but stays on the road. His first magazine through, he scrambles for the next and just as Michael leans out the window again, a bullet pierces through the back window of his car. It misses both him and Geoff, but the shock makes Geoff turn the steering wheel just a little, his fingers gripping tightly onto the metal.

Michael hits the driver this time.

The man's spasms makes him a danger to everyone else on the road as the car teeters close to the edge of the bridge. Michael doesn't notice if it actually goes in, because within seconds he's dodging another shot when the other car overtakes the first and drives far closer. Geoff doesn't speak, focuses on staying on the road while Michael fails to hit the cop intent on ramming them. Michael's hands are shaking. He hits tires, makes the police car screech and turn wildly - but something posses the cop behind the wheel to press the speeder down, to push the car further still until it hits and sends Michael falling back into his seat where he gets an up-and-close view of what it looks like when Geoff loses control - there's some impact further down the line and that's what sends them over the edge. They're off the ground for a moment. Falling. Fuck.

Then there's only water.

 

Later they'll both remember those few minutes as a haze, as a panicked fight against glass and metal and waves and undercurrents, but they will talk about it as if it wasn't like that at all. Michael won't mention looking back and seeing a man drowning inside the sinking police car - he will just say the he swam to the surface and headed for the coast after breaking the windows. Geoff won't say that he couldn't get out of the car before Michael helped him or that moments after, he saw Michael slipping away and had to grip tightly onto his arm, nails pressing into the little black star tattoo, in order to pull him up. Neither of them mention the frantic fear and words can't describe the cold that crept into their bones from that kind of water. Every time they talk about it, the story starts with "Okay, so we made it to the shore..."

 

And then they walk up the mountain.

They are lucky they're close to the designated meeting point. They're lucky that it's warm out and that the sun is shining, but they don't care about it. They're freezing, steps shaky as they stumble up the gravel path. At least they have lost the police.

Michael keeps quiet. Geoff tries to encourage him but eventually, he shuts up and continues onward. They walk through soft hills with sparse trees and small creeks littered with black garbage bags and radio masts, and as Michael grows warmer from walking, he opens his mouth as if to speak - but he seems to second-guess everything and shuts it again every time. It's partly exhaustion that makes his hand find Geoff's and they go, the older man in the lead, towards the green plateu about halfway to the peak where they hope to find familiar faces.

There's nothing.

The sky is wide and empty there, no trees obstructing it - Jack made sure of that when she crash-landed there all that time ago. The soft earth is without tracks, a clean slate.

Michael and Geoff keep standing on the edge, and Michael gives the hand in his a little squeeze that makes Geoff wonder if he intends to crush it, to break it until white bone pierces the skin because only then will there be something that physically represents how his insides feel. He realizes they hadn't even thought about getting down from the mountain again and Geoff wonders what happened to the man who used to let subordinates die so he could get out of danger. He and Michael are going to go back to the apartment, he thinks, if maybe...

No, he can't start doing maybes.

"Let's go," he says softly.

Ray's probably out of town already, like Michael said. And Ryan too. And...

Michael takes a step forward, spitting blood out onto the dry grass at his feet and then he stands there and looks down upon the city. "Yeah, let's  _fucking go_ ," he snarls. Geoff thinks that Michael will probably be alright because at least he has rage to harness. Geoff is just tired, worn paper-thin. Not by the heist itself, not by the work or the stress, but by the loss.

Geoff turns around with the intent to go back down, to somehow make it before nightfall, when he hears the strangest sound.

The sound of a car all the way up there. A car making it's way through the creeks, getting tangled up in stray plastic and narrowly avoiding collisions with rocks. The sound of a someone yelling _like some bipolar bird._  It's coming closer. Michael freezes out in the open like an animal. Geoff fixes his drenched butterfly in a vain attempt at regaining some goddamn dignity.

Jack pulls up the gravel road in a car that isn't the silver one she left home with. This one is red, a bit rough in some places but that dosen't matter. It could have been a pink minivan for all Geoff cares because the most important thing is that it stops and Jack steps out, Gavin in tow. The four of them look each other in the eyes. Michael swallows hard, Gavin smiles from ear to ear, Jack is still tense and Geoff breathes for the first time in what feels like hours. And then there's one last headlight down below them in the valley and Gavin mutters something about hoping they don't break his bike when he sees Ryan driving it, Ray's arms around him. They follow the gravel road that takes them around bends and turns, leaving them temporarily out of sight on their way up which makes Geoff wonder, each time, if they're going to reappear on the other side of that outcropping or those trees. He and Michael appear to be the only ones surprised by this. Jack and Gavin just wait.

As soon as they're caught up, Ray steps off and Ryan lets the bike fall to the ground (prompting a small cry from Gavin).

Ray's shoulders fall down, relaxing, and he and Ryan steps towards the others so they end up forming a little circle up on the mountain.

”How'd you get here?” Michael asks.

”Ryan and Ray dropped by,” Gavin explains, pointing to the saviours in question with his thumb. ”Stole my bike and saved our lives, I suppose.”

Ray smiles. The conversation stops there – they can talk about who got them out of the mess, but not about where to place the blame. That's for later. Right now they just stand there.

Above them is the sky, the sunset spreading colours over the clouds and the smog equally. 

Underneath them is a city ripe for the taking. A little shaken now, maybe. A little different after today, just as they are.

Michael finds Gavin's side quickly, lets their fingers intertwine again.

It's a nice moment. The memory of it will stay with each of them as a more permanent mark than any ink they put under their skin - it'll cut deeper, stay longer. It'll come to Ryan when he takes his gun into his hand and considers for just a moment what he could do when they all turn their backs to him. It'll be in Ray's mind when he turns his back to them as he falls asleep and with Jack when she lays down her gun, with Gavin when he feels like running and with Michael when he wakes up afraid to trust the person in his bed with one-sixth of his heart. With Geoff when he thinks about whether he is a rich man, a happy man, neither - both.

"Anyway," Geoff says, "As I said to Michael a few minutes earlier - let's go."

 

 


End file.
